


Everyone Is the Main Character of Their Own Story; Some Just Get More Attention than Others

by AntagonizedPenguin



Series: How Best to Use a Sword [19]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Anthology Work, Different main character every chapter, Dragon sex, M/M, Not all the chapters have sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2019-10-30 00:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17818481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntagonizedPenguin/pseuds/AntagonizedPenguin
Summary: The world is a very full place; it's impossible to tell everyone's story. But sometimes, it's possible to get a glimpse into the lives of those who usually inhabit the background.An anthology of different side characters from the main series, going about their daily lives, finding love, or dealing with the fallout of whatever their more famous counterparts have done this week.





	1. If You Want Casual Sex, Going to A Dragon Is A Good Bet

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary says, this is going to be an anthology of one-off POVs from different side characters throughout the series doing things that I think are interesting, but who I can't give full stories to. It doesn't have a specific plot except inasmuch as it connects to the other stories in the series, but the chapters here are all part of the series canon. 
> 
> I say one-offs, but characters will likely repeat as I decide to follow them a little more than in just one chapter. After all, like anyone else, these folks have got lives that they're out there living and there's always stuff happening to them! 
> 
> This first chapter was originally posted in the drabble collection for the series, but I'm reposting it here to get the anthology started because it was really the one that encouraged me to write this as a collection. So many of you have probably read this one before, but I promise future chapters will be all new material!

The path up to the crow’s nest was mostly a lot of netting, which was problematic because climbing netting was always a tricky proposition with a boner sticking out. There was a not inconsiderable risk that the boner would stick into a hole in the netting and get stuck, which in the best case would make it slap up when it got free, and in the worst end in a net-dick tangle that was really painful to get free.

But Denver was fucking determined to get fucking, so he was careful to avoid rope-burn as he climbed, which was doubly impressive since he hadn’t bothered to put any clothes on.

Denver was the most impressive, especially when he needed to get laid. And yes, he’d already gotten laid a few times tonight, and that had been fun. But none of the guys who’d fucked him had been an honest-to-God actual dragon.

And Denver really wanted to get fucked by an honest-to-God actual dragon.

Fortunately, he knew where one was sleeping, and he got up to the crow’s nest without any trouble, climbing into the basket.

Dragon snorted, scratching his chest in his sleep. He was taking up most of the space in the nest, mostly courtesy of his wings, which were spread out behind him. He was snoring gently. Denver smiled, sitting on the edge of the nest and watching him sleep for a minute.

He was really hot, which Denver appreciated. Horns, tail and wings notwithstanding, he was leanly built but muscular, pointed in the right places, hair looking nice and soft against his forehead, that scar on his face really adding to his rugged demeanor. And his dick was resting on his belly, inviting with its very existence. Denver sighed a little dreamily.

“Waking up a sleeping dragon is a bad fucking idea.”

Denver nearly pitched backwards, not having noticed that Dragon’s eyes were open, reflecting moonlight. He regained his composure, smiling. “Fucking was the idea, actually.”

Dragon snorted again, shifting a little, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are all humans this straightforward?”

“Only the interesting ones,” Denver told him. He wondered who else had been that straightforward.

Dragon looked at him a moment, assessing Denver, looking his body up and down. Denver smiled, not ashamed. “Fine,” Dragon said, shrugging. “It took me forever to get comfortable up here and I’m not moving. You want it that bad, you can do the damn work, human.”

“Denver.”

“Don’t care.” He shut his eyes again. “Do your thing.”

Denver got down on his knees, taking Dragon in his hand. “Was thinking I’d do your thing.”

“Cute.”

“So they tell me.”

“Do you have to talk?”

“Do you have to be a jerk?”

“No, I just choose to.”

Denver rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

“I know.” Dragon said smugly.

Whatever, they were going to fuck, not get married. Denver didn’t need him to have a decent personality. The angle slightly awkward, Denver took the dragon into his mouth, letting himself drool as he sucked the top bit of it, getting it as wet as he could.

Once Denver deemed it slick enough he pulled up, giving one more rueful look at the dragon’s closed eyes, and straddled his prey, taking the dick in hand and lining it up with his hole. Dragon still didn’t say anything, but he had a bit of a smug expression on his face and Denver could sense why. He didn’t think Denver was going to be able to take him.

Denver was about to prove him very, very wrong.

He relaxed himself, sitting on the head of Dragon’s cock. Denver sighed as he felt it penetrate him, going in without too much trouble—it was thick, but Denver was no beginner. Dragon snorted as Denver slid down, and when the entire head popped past his entrance, Denver grinned. This was going to be good.

Denver rocked himself back and forth as he slid down, fucking his way onto the whole of his dragon cock. It was a long process, a process of relaxation, of exertion, of determination. More and more of it went in, but it felt never-ending, and even as it started to burn, Denver found himself hoping it never did.

He’d never felt so full, so stretched, so challenged, and he kept pushing, moaning now and then as he got a particularly good thrust in, swinging his hips back and forth like his life depended on it and…

And when he felt his ass hit Dragon’s pubic bone, Denver came with a shout, spraying the dragon with his satisfaction.

Smiling, Denver just sat there a moment, hands on his dragon’s chest, letting himself get used to it. And when he opened his eyes, he saw the dragon looking up at him in something like wonder. “What?” Denver asked, panting. “Didn’t think I could do it?”

“I have to admit I didn’t,” he said, eyes wide. They were nice eyes, fiery and dark.

Denver grinned at him. “Come on now. It’s not _that_ big. In fact, I think it’s just the right size for me.”

“That so?” Dragon asked.

Denver nodded, and he started to move again, feeling the dragon cock slide in and out of him as he went. “Just…right,” Denver breathed, sweating.

He yelped when the dragon started moving too, thrusting upwards. “Th-thought you wanted me to do the work…” Denver said.

“Changed my mind.” The dragon started thrusting now, moving his hips shallowly up into Denver, growling a little as the angle made it awkward. He rose up suddenly, sitting and pulling Denver closer to him. Denver rode him like that for a while, not able to moan quietly, arms wrapped around the dragon’s neck since his wings stopped Denver from wrapping them around his chest.

He kept trying to flex those wings, kept moving back and hitting his back on the wall of the crow’s nest, kept kicking the other side, kept growling, until he finally got tired of that and stood straight up with Denver in his arms and on his cock. “This is better,” the dragon decided.

Denver nodded, liking the sensation of being held, being weightless. He wrapped his legs around his dragon’s waist, just above the tail, and let the dragon thrust into him like that, his hands on Denver’s hips to move him along.

His arms and the dragon’s neck were sweaty and Denver kept slipping, so he leaned back a little, trusting his dragon to keep him up, and grabbed onto his horns for handles. The dragon took in a sharp breath and suddenly he was pounding Denver even faster, up and down, growls escaping him of a different tone this time.

Denver couldn’t find himself in the ocean of pleasure, his whole world nothing but the dragon in front of him and the cock inside him, and it was so much and so good and so hard and Denver loved it so much that he pulled himself forward and kissed the dragon on the mouth as he came all over the dragon’s chest again.

With a near-roar and his wings outstretched, the dragon came inside Denver, pulling away from the kiss to bite his neck instead, hard, hard enough to bleed, and Denver didn’t care because he was being filled up, cum burning into his insides with such force, leaking out even though he wanted it to stay in, more and more of it coming in so many spurts, seven, eight, nine full blasts inside him.

When he was done the dragon let out a breath, still holding Denver loosely. Denver smiled at him, a little dopey from the force of his orgasms. “Thanks,” he said, giggling a little.

The dragon smirked. “You’re welcome. I hope you don’t think I’m done.”

Oh, good. “I hope you don’t think I am.”

The dragon gave one thrust up into Denver, who gasped. “Good. Because now that you’ve woken me up, it’ll be a while before I fall asleep again.”

“You got a name?” Denver asked him.

“Louis.”

“Alright, Louis,” Denver said, shifting a little and giving him another kiss, followed by a gentle bite on the chin. “Keep me up all night.”

And he did.


	2. The Prince's Page Has a Full Day before Most People’s Mornings Have Even Finished, and He Wouldn’t Have it Any Other Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second entry in our anthology focuses on everyone's favourite page/spymaster, Frederick. Shades of this were requested/suggested by Folken.

Frederick woke up early like he always did, and with a foot in his face, like he pretty much always did. Why Silas couldn’t stay still in his sleep like a normal person was something Frederick didn’t expect he’d ever understand. Like always, Dragon was in the bed with them, an oven on Frederick’s left side. And like always, Frederick’s loincloth had come completely unravelled in the night, leaving him naked and slightly tangled in the cloth. 

It had never used to do that until Silas had started sleeping with him, but now that they were sharing the bed and Silas liked to sleep so close to him, Frederick guessed the contact must be making the tie come undone. 

Oh, well, it wasn’t like Silas or Dragon cared. And Silas was still asleep, like usual, so he couldn’t make fun of Frederick’s morning boner. It wasn’t like he had a leg to stand on since he had his own inside his smallclothes. 

Frederick untangled himself and got up, climbed over him and out of the bed. “Wake up,” he said, giving Silas a shake. Silas grumbled something and rolled onto his belly. Dragon got up, though, and excitedly climbed over Silas to get to the door, tail wagging. 

Frederick patted his head. “Good morning, Dragon,” he said, opening the door. Dragon ran out into the main room. Silas made an agitated noise and pulled the blanket over his head. 

Heading out into the main room without bothering to dress—nobody was awake at this time of day—Frederick laughed a little at Dragon’s impatient stare, opening the exterior door for him too. Dragon ran out into the castle grounds. Frederick shut the door. Dragon would come back in a bit for breakfast after he’d peed somewhere.

Speaking of peeing somewhere, Frederick used the privy before returning to his room, getting a drink of water from the cup he kept on the table to clear his parched mouth. Then he looked at the lump of blankets that was Silas. “Wake up, lazy,” he said again, heading for the wardrobe. He dressed quickly, in something slightly warmer because the air when he’d let Dragon out had done a lot for deboning him even just in that few seconds, and then pulled the blankets off Silas, exposing him again. He set down the clothes he’d gotten for Silas by his head. “Come on, get dressed.”

Silas grunted, kept his eyes closed. Frederick rolled his eyes, moved over and pulled Silas’s smallclothes down and off, then smacked his bare butt. “Let’s go.” 

Silas rolled onto his belly with a sigh. “Sleeping,” he muttered.

“It’s morning,” Frederick said, taking the smallcothes and his loincloth from last night for the laundry, and picking up the clothes they’d discarded last night as well. “Come on.” 

“You suck,” Silas said, which was what Silas always said. 

Frederick smiled, took the dirty laundry to the hamper and took the hamper out to the main room, setting it by his door, looking up as another door swung open. “Good morning,” he said. Prince Donovan was standing there in a long shirt, holding a toy and rubbing his eyes. “Did you just wake up?”

Donovan nodded. “Need pee.”

“Go on,” Frederick said. “I’ll get your breakfast.” 

Donovan toddled off into the privy—leaving the door open—and Frederick went over to ring the little bell that he used to tell the prince’s servants that it was time to bring breakfast in. It was a while before Donovan came back, but it usually was. “Breakfast is coming,” Frederick told him. “Let’s get you dressed.”

Donovan nodded and let Frederick lead him back into his room. “Where Saias?” he asked as Frederick took him in and undressed him.

“He’s sleeping,” Frederick said. 

“Where Fwan?”

“Sleeping,” Frederick said, getting Donovan some clothes.

“Where Boy?”

“Sleeping,” Frederick said again. This was a ritual they had, Donovan asked after everyone every morning. 

“Where Dwagen?”

“Outside.” 

“Donny go outside too?”

“Later, after breakfast.”

Donovan nodded and let Frederick tie his loincloth. “Where Corbea?”

“She’s sleeping too,” Frederick told Donovan. 

“Why everyone sweeping?”

“Because they’re tired.” 

That satisfied Donovan, as it always did, and Frederick dressed him and took him back outside after the fairly involved process of him picking a new toy to eat breakfast with him. 

The servants were putting food out when they came back out and Frederick smiled at them as he tossed Donovan’s sleep shirt into the laundry hamper. “Good morning, Ethel, Steve.”

“Morning, Fred,” Ethel said. She was about Franz’s age but had white streaks in her hair. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Frederick said, going over to open the door and let Dragon in. Steve put a bowl down for him and Dragon started eating like he was starving. “How are you? Still trying to find that weird spice?”

“No, we found it, finally. Here you go, little prince,” she said, putting a bowl of oats and fruit in front of Donovan.

“What do you say?” Frederick asked, when Donovan didn’t.

“Fank you,” Donovan said to Ethel, then he took his bowl and sat down on the floor beside Dragon to eat like usual.

“Bold talk to a prince.”

“I don’t care if he’s a prince, he’ll learn manners if it kills me,” Frederick said, keeping an eye on Donovan to make sure that not too much of his breakfast ended up in Dragon’s bowl. “Where’d you find a weird Kyainese spice in the capital?”

“You can buy anything on Bounty Street if you have enough organs to barter,” Steve said, setting out the rest of the breakfast dishes. 

“Well, at least Lord Horace won’t have to complain anymore about his supper tasting funny.”

Ethel snorted. “I’m sure he’ll complain about something else. He doesn’t like anything about the north, which is fun for someone who thinks he’s going to marry the princess.” 

“Even his own servants think he’s annoying,” Steve confided in Frederick. “I heard some of them talking about how they wished he would just go home and let that Neville guy do the negotiating, since he’s doing all the talking anyway.”

“Apparently Lord Horace is annoyed that Neville’s taken over the whole process,” Ethel said. “And it’s a whole thing with them. Morning, Silas.”

“Yeah,” Silas said, eyes half-closed as he shuffled to the table. His shirt was askew and he hadn’t laced up his pants, but he was dressed. 

“Silas, manners.”

Silas sighed, laying his head on the table. “Good morning, Ethel, good morning, guy whose name I don’t remember.”

“It’s Steve, we’ve been over this,” Frederick said, getting Silas some breakfast.

“Whatever, dad.”

“You’re not getting any strawberries for breakfast.”

Ethel chuckled at the two of them as she and Steve cleared away the serving trays. “Wish my relationships worked as well as theirs.”

Frederick laughed as he put blueberries in Silas’s bowl and an orange in his pocket. “We’ve been friends for a long time, that’s all.”

Ethel and Steve kind of looked at each other, then back at him. “Sure,” Ethel said. “Well, we’ll see you around, Fred. Probably at lunch.”

“Probably,” Frederick agreed. He’d get more information about Neville and Horace out of them then if he could. Or maybe about House Hardhold; Steve’s brother was a porter there. “See you.”

Once they’d left, Frederick went over to a small chest and got out the box of sugarworm leaves, taking one and prodding Silas to eat it. “Come on,” he said, into the dawn quiet of the room.

“Too tired to eat.”

“Don’t make me feed you.”

“Feed me.”

Frederick didn’t feed him, but he did eventually get both Silas and Donovan fed, as well as himself, and then he fixed Silas’s clothes for him and put Donovan’s coat on, taking him outside with Dragon, for ten whole minutes until Donovan got cold and made them come in and then sat huddled up beside Dragon and asked Frederick to go get his horses. They played horses for a while Silas went to go see if Franz had any letters, and by the time he’d come back, Frederick judged it was time to get the prince up. He made Silas come over and play horses and went to go to their door.

Frederick made sure that Donovan was suitably distracted before knocking once and going in. As usual, they weren’t sleeping in there. Franz’s head was on the pillow, his butt was in the air and Boey was on his knees behind him.

That was more than they usually got up to in the mornings, but nothing Frederick hadn’t seen before. “Oh, good, you’re already awake,” he said, like he always did. 

Boey looked over at Frederick, not slowing. “We’ll just be a few minutes.”

Frederick nodded, heading over to the bed and collecting their dirty clothes from the floor. “Don’t forget he’s meeting Lord Hector after breakfast for shopping.”

“I know.”

Frederick nodded, and he shut the door behind him as he left, trying not to roll his eyes. 

Silas smiled. “They were already awake,” he said, in a tone that implied the rest of it.

“Yeah,” Frederick agreed, tossing the dirty clothes into the hamper one at a time.

“Fwan awake?”

“Yep, he’ll be out in a minute,” Frederick told Donovan. 

“I go see?”

“No,” Frederick said. “Not yet. Franz is exercising.” 

Donovan nodded. He knew not to interrupt his brother when he was exercising. 

“It’s a good way to wake up,” Silas mused as he let Donovan’s horse chase his around. 

“You’d know?”

“Well, I’ve exercised on my own before, yeah.” Silas grinned at Frederick. “Maybe you and I could try it sometime. I wouldn’t mind waking up early if we were going to…exercise.”

Frederick snorted as he headed for the bathroom. “Sure you wouldn’t.” Silas was always making jokes like that. But they were just jokes. They’d messed around a bunch, but that was just friend stuff. Not quite the same order as full on fucking, Frederick thought. “Nothing wakes you up in the morning.”

“You do,” Silas called after him as Frederick disappeared. “And you’d say yes if I was Abby!”

Frederick blushed for no reason as he filled the bath, which Franz would need after breakfast. The whole Abby situation was still kind of awkward. She’d forgiven him for vanishing on the condition that he not do it again, and Silas had forgiven him for not saying anything about her on the condition that he not do _that_ again, and it was fine. Except that Silas and Abby were friends now and that made Frederick nervous for no real reason. 

When the bath was full and steaming, way too hot for human habitation—Franz liked it that way—Frederick stepped back, headed out into the main room, let Dragon back inside again and poured himself a cup of tea with a lot of sugar.

He’d drank all of it by the time Franz led Boey out of their bedroom, ass naked as Frederick had suspected he might be. “It’s just us men here and none of them mind,” was what he’d said the first time he’d done it. Boey, at least, was dressed. 

“Fwan,” Donovan said, abandoning Silas and his horses to go hug Franz’s leg, and getting picked up for his trouble.

“Morning, Donny,” Franz said, smiling. “How are you?”

“You naked.”

“That’s because I’m going to have a bath after breakfast. Want to come in with me?”

Donovan shook his head. “Feddik do it.”

“You heard the prince, Frederick,” Franz said, sitting down at the table with Donovan on his knee. “Guess you’re having a bath with me.”

“I think he meant that he wanted me to give him his bath, sir,” Frederick said, smiling at Donovan. 

“No reason you can’t do both.”

Frederick avoided rolling his eyes. He did have a few things to report to the prince. “Okay. I have a couple things to do before, though. I’ll be back by the time you’re finished eating.” Franz was a slow eater.

“I’ll count on it, it’s cold.”

“You could wear pants, sir.”

“You could stop talking like a crazy person, Frederick.”

Now Frederick did roll his eyes, but so did Boey so it was fine. “Do your sheets need changing?”

“As a matter of fact, I think they do,” Franz told him. 

Frederick nodded and went to the bedroom. “Ours…could use some changing,” Silas called after him.

Frederick glared at him. “They were fine when I got out of bed.”

Silas shrugged. He never really had the right amount of concern about this stuff. “They weren’t when I got out of bed.” 

Sighing, Frederick just went and stripped the beds—both of them—adding the piles of sheets to his laundry hamper. “I’ll be back,” he said, mostly to Boey, who nodded. Donovan had climbed onto Silas and was trying to take off his shirt. Frederick hoped that most of them still had their clothes on when he got back. 

Frederick didn’t need to bring the laundry down to the room, but he liked to do it in the mornings so he could see his friends down there. In the castle laundry rooms, he set the basket near the wall of the long room. “Morning, Ginny.”

“Morning, Frederick,” said Ginny, the old lady who ran the place. “More bedsheets.”

“I can’t instill in any of them the value of not making a mess of them.” Frederick shrugged. “How’s Gina?” 

“Being run ragged as usual, poor girl,” Ginny said, shaking her head as she pointed one of her underlings to the basket. The underling was a mostly naked boy named Art who took the basket over to a long basin to wash the sheets. “Seems Lady Olivia has someone over for dinner near every day of the week. Or the husband does.”

“That’s a lot of friends for someone who just moved here,” Frederick laughed.

“Tell me about it. Merchants, apparently. The worst sort. Worse still that she’s apparently barely eating any food herself—still not well, apparently, and having all those vultures around.” 

“Eat your food and make you pay them for it,” Frederick agreed. Olivia had been unwell for a while now. Maybe Franz should send her flowers or something. 

“I always think—I may wash smallclothes for a living, but at least I’m no bleeding merchant,” Ginny laughed. “Oh, which reminds me, I must go order more soap. Excuse me.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ginny,” Frederick said with a smile, waiting until she was gone to go crouch beside Art as he washed the sheets. “Sorry about these.” 

Art shrugged, his grin showing the gap in his teeth as he washed. “Five guys in one apartment.”

“One of the guys is a baby,” Frederick reminded Art, pulling out the orange and setting it beside him. “Though to be fair, he wets the bed sometimes.” 

“We all wet the bed all the time,” Art joked. “It’s just a matter of what we wet it with. It’s why the world needs launderers. Speaking of which, your clothes are dirty.”

“They are not. You cleaned them.”

“Dirty. Take them off, I’ll wash them for you.” Art kept grinning. “You can borrow my smallclothes to wear until they’re done.” 

“Now if there’s something I know is dirty…”

“You wound me, Frederick. Wound me.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s guy’s not still bothering you, is he?”

Art frowned, shook his head. “No, actually. Haven’t seen him all week. Maybe he got bored.”

“That’s good to hear,” Frederick said, since he’d talked to the supervisor in charge of the castle guard who’d been harassing Art. “Saves me having to stab him in the eye.” 

“Yeah, you being such a badass,” Art scoffed.

“I look out for my friends.”

“If that were true you’d be looking out for my need to get you naked.” 

Frederick laughed. Art was always joking about that. “How’s your mom?”

“Feeling better. She’s back at work now,” Art said. “I think she should have stayed in bed another day, but the academy isn’t going to feed itself. Oh, she told me something you’ll like. Apparently there’s this sorceress at the academy…”

“Art,” Ginny said, coming back in the room. “Stop gossiping, Frederick’s busy.”

Art rolled his eyes where only Frederick could see. “Sorry.”

Frederick stood up, patted his bare shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “Tell you what, how about I let you get me naked tonight?”

“W-what?”

“We’ll have a bath together after supper. See you then?”

“Sure!” Art’s grin returned. “About time.”

“My loincloth is in that basket in the meantime,” Frederick said as he turned to go. “Try not to perv over it too much,” he joked. 

And then he left, wondering what he’d learn about the sorceress in the academy during that bath. 

No point worrying about it now. Frederick’s next stop was the kitchen, and he hurried there since they were waiting for him in the room. There, several people were at work, preparing food that would be for lunch and dinner, and several more cleaning up after the first batch. Frederick wandered over to the second group, crouching in front of a big pot that was being cleaned. A boy was on his hands and knees inside it, scrubbing. “Hey, dipshit,” he said, tapping the boy’s leg.

The boy kicked him in the knee without looking back. “Hey, fuckhead,” he said, his voice echoing in the pot. “Thought I told you to stop bothering me.” 

“I think you told me to keep bothering you,” Frederick corrected. “Something about having no friends and the sad life of a scullion?”

“No, that doesn’t sound like me,” Kenny said. “How’s Dragon doing?”

“He’s doing great.” Kenny liked Dragon. Everyone liked Dragon. “Come see him later when you get a break.” 

“Can I?”

“No, I said it because you can’t, dipshit.”

“I’m coming anyway.” 

“You can tell me more about the mysterious story of servants sneaking out of the quarters at night,” Frederick said in a mocking voice.

Kenny snickered. “You know they’re just going out to have sex or to smoke or something.”

“I know, but I like the way you tell it as a story. Indulge me or I won’t let you see the dog.” 

“You’re such a dick.” 

“You love me anyway.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Kenny sighed. “Fuck off. I have to clean this pot.” 

“I’ll see you later, dipshit,” Frederick said, getting up and heading over to a counter, where one of the chefs was setting out pastries. “Can I have one of those?”

“No.” 

“Can I have two?”

“Beat it, Fred.” 

“I’m taking two,” Frederick told him, doing just that. Eliezer didn’t stop him. “The prince wants rhubarb pie for desert tonight.” 

“ _You_ want rhubarb pie for desert tonight,” Eliezer accused. 

Frederick shrugged. “If there’s a difference I’ll never tell. How’s your new guy working out?”

“Fine. Does his work. Slowly, but fast enough. Keeps his head down.” 

“Uh-huh,” Frederick said. “That’s good. I’d hate to assassinate him for having his head too high.” 

“I remember thinking I was a badass at your age too,” Eliezer sighed. 

Frederick smiled, turned away with the pastries, glancing over at the new guy, who was a spy and he didn’t know for whom yet. “See you later.” 

Finally, Frederick went outside and headed for the stables, since they were only a few minutes from the kitchen. Instead of going inside, he went around the back, and predictably found a small southerner drawing figures in the dirt. “Morning, Manny.” 

The boy looked up at him, a smile forming on his face before he’d even seen Frederick. “Hey, Frederick.” 

“Here.” Frederick crouched beside him, handed him one of the pastries. “I can’t stay long but I saw these and thought you’d like them so I stole you one.”

“You…didn’t have to do that for me,” Manny said in a quiet voice as he took the pastry. 

“I know, that’s why I did.” Frederick smiled. “It’s warm, you’ll like it. It’s going to be something you like about the north, promise.” He’d been trying to find some of those things. 

“Thanks,” Manny whispered, looking at his dirt figures. He’d made good ones even though the ground was partly frozen. “You’re really nice, Frederick.” 

“I’m just trying to help you not be so sad,” Frederick said. Manny hated being up here so much it made Frederick hurt. “At least until you get to go home.” 

“Feels like I’ll never go home,” Manny muttered with a deep sigh. “You don’t send this many messages to this many people if you’re leaving soon. Or at least Neville doesn’t. We’re going to be here a while.” 

Frederick squeezed his shoulder. “At least you’ll have me.” 

“Yeah.” Manny did smile now, looking at him. “At least I do.”

“Listen, I have to go, but can we hang out this afternoon? I’ll show you the moat.”

“I’ve seen the moat.”

“Not with a tour guide, though.” 

Manny chuckled. “Okay.” 

Frederick squeezed again, got up. “Eat that,” he said as he left. “It’s good. You’ll like it.” 

He left Manny there and went into the stable, looking around until he saw someone shoveling hay. He snuck up behind her, only to have a pitchfork poked at his chest when he got within three paces. “I got closer today.” 

“Almost close enough to get skewered,” Abby said, dropping the fork after a second. She smiled in that nice way that made everything feel warm. “Morning.” 

“Morning,” Frederick said, kissing her on the cheek and handing her the other pastry. “Got you something.” 

“Did you steal this from the kitchen?”

“No, I made it myself, just for you.” 

“You’re such a bad liar,” Abby giggled, taking a bite of it. 

“I’m just lucky you like me, then,” Frederick said with a dopey grin and a dopey feeling in his chest. Abby made him feel dopey. “You can lie for me if it’s ever important.” 

Abby laughed again. “Alright, I will. You can shovel the hay for me.” 

“Oh, wow,” Frederick said, looking at the window. “Look at the time! Got to get back, Franz is waiting for me, sorry!”

“You suck!”

“I’ve heard! See you later, Abby! Miss you already!” Frederick was already at the door. 

“Eat lunch with me!”

Frederick paused. “Okay. I’ll make a picnic.” 

“It’s too cold for a picnic.” 

“We’ll have it in the loft.” 

“That’s not very romantic.” 

“I’ll bring candles.” 

“And burn the stable down?”

“Then you won’t have to shovel hay anymore.”

“Get lost,” Abby said, with another giggle. 

Frederick laughed and ran out of the stable, heading around the side of the castle outdoors to the prince’s rooms. He ran into Dragon halfway there, menacing a small bush. “They put you out here again?”

Dragon looked at him and whinged. Frederick sighed, went over to the bush, and carefully navigated the thorns to get a ball out, which he held up. “No, you came out looking for this, didn’t you. Didn’t you?”

Dragon’s tail could break knees at the speed it was going. Frederick threw the ball for him and he took off, finding it and immediately bringing it back. Frederick got stuck throwing the ball for the dog for several minutes, though he moved steadily closer to the doors every time, until the time when Dragon brought the ball back to him and he was standing right there. “Let’s go in,” he said, as snow started to blow. He hoped Manny went inside. “Come on.” 

Dragon gave him an unimpressed look, but followed him into the apartments through the sun door, ball in his mouth. “Dwagen!”

Frederick smiled at Donovan, who’d lost his shirt. “Where’s your shirt, Donny?”

“Taked it off!”

Frederick sighed. “Took it off.” 

“Taked it off.” 

“Took, Donny.” 

“Tooked it off?” 

“Good enough for now.” Frederick tried to teach Donovan at least one new word every day. 

Franz was still sitting at the table without any clothes on, just finishing up his breakfast. “Perfect timing as always,” he said to Frederick with a smile.

Frederick smiled back. “You’re a slow eater, sir. I’ve learned to accommodate that. You really do have to get ready for your meeting with Lord Hector.” 

“Don’t call it a meeting, Hector’s a friend. You wouldn’t like it if I called all of your time with your endless friends meetings.” But Franz sighed, stretched as he got up. Boey and Silas were already sitting on the sofa together writing. Silas’s letters were really good now. They looked all fancy. “Come on, bath time.” 

“Yes, my prince,” Frederick said, following him inside the bathroom, which was an almost livable temperature now that some time had passed. He started to undress. 

“What’s going on in the world today, Frederick?” Franz asked, stepping into the water as if it wasn’t hot enough to melt skin. 

“Horace and Neville are fighting, Neville’s sending letters to a lot of people, something’s happening with the sorceress at the academy, servants are sneaking out of their quarters at night, the new cook is a spy, and Lady Olivia and Lord Trent are hosting too many dinner guests even though she’s still sick. You should send her flowers.” 

“All that just since yesterday?” Franz asked, watching Frederick undress, but not in a creepy way. He wasn’t creepy. 

“All that since I woke up, sir,” Frederick clarified. “Not everyone in the world takes an hour to eat breakfast.” 

“I think we’d all be happier if they did,” Franz sighed. “Okay, get in here, no more work. Bath time, boy time. How’s Abby?”

Frederick smiled as he got in, ignoring the heat. “Good. We’re having a picnic in the stable loft for lunch.” 

“The romantic whinnying of horses the music to your love,” Franz opined. Frederick had never known anyone to opine before, but Franz did it at least twice a day. Usually he waited until lunch, though. That was a bad sign. It might mean he planned to opine a lot today.

“Yes, sir,” Frederick said as he started to wash. “Is it weird that I’m scared because she and Silas are friends now?”

“Not at all. I’m still scared that Boey and Gabrielle are friends.” Franz smiled. “You’ll get used to it.” 

“Okay,” Frederick said. It was nice to have someone impartial to talk to about this, even it was a prince. It was kind of like having a slightly overbearing big brother. 

Just as he thought that, Donovan came running in with no clothes on. “Bath!”

“Don’t run in the bathroom, Donny,” Frederick said, reaching out to pick him up and slowly lower him into the water. The scalding water didn’t seem to bother him either. 

“It _was_ because he wanted you to do it,” Franz muttered, narrowing his eyes at Donovan. “Traitor.” 

“You get soap in his eyes and he doesn’t know his maid,” Frederick said, washing Donovan now too. “That’s all.” 

“He likes you better than me.” 

“Obviously, sir.” 

As he said that, there was more commotion, and Boey led Silas in by the ear. Franz paled a little in a noticeable way. “Boey?”

“Let me go!” Silas demanded.

“This gross little boy hasn’t had a bath in three days,” Boey explained, stripping Silas out of his shirt. “He’s getting in with you.” 

“I’m fine! I don’t even smell bad!”

“Yes you do,” Frederick said, helpfully, though he didn’t really. 

Silas glared at him in a way that promised retribution and undressed himself before Boey could. “Not a little boy,” he muttered. 

“Of course not,” Franz said, waving Silas into the water. “Come on, the more the merrier. You too, Boey.” 

“I have work to…”

“If I have to bathe with all the rambunctious children, so do you,” Franz said sternly, in that fake-stern voice he used when he was trying to be taken seriously. Nobody took it seriously. 

But Boey sighed, started to take off his clothes as well. “Fine. But this is not excuse for you to goof off. We all have things to do today.” 

“Goof off?” Franz asked. “Me?”

“God,” Silas hissed as he got in. “Do you have to bathe in molten lava?”

“Yes, I am the Leader, haven’t you heard?”

“Hot water is good for you,” Boey said, urging Silas in. 

“Saias!” Donovan chose that moment to lurch out of Frederick’s arms and jump on Silas, who caught him awkwardly and fell into the water with a splash. “Pway!”

“Let’s wash?”

“Pway! Donny swim!”

A whinge got Frederick’s attention and he saw Dragon resting his head on the side of the bath, which was too hot for him too. He just lapped at the water and watched them, apparently content.

“You’re distracted, Frederick,” Franz said. “Thinking about something? Not work, I hope. Boy time, remember?”

“I remember,” Frederick said with a smile. He hadn’t been thinking about work. “I was just thinking that it’s been a good morning, that’s all.” Being in here with all of them was really something for Frederick. It was like having four brothers. Four brothers and a dog. Maybe Silas wasn’t a brother considering their occasional forays into friend stuff. Three brothers, a dog and a best friend.

It was kind of like having a family. And Frederick had never had one of those before. So he was going to do everything he could to make sure that he kept the one he’d found safe and happy.


	3. A Competent Butler Will Solve Most Problems Before They Ever Reach His Master's Attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been promising for a while to write a chapter of this anthology about Benedict, so here he is! Enjoy a look into our favourite butler!

The house always felt empty when Theodore wasn’t in it. 

It wasn’t, of course. Theodore was only one person, and in order to keep the house running he employed a full compliment of staff, including a recently expanded security compliment. Between cooks, cleaners, guards, gardeners, drivers, and Benedict himself, the house had more than fifty people living in it. And, of course, there were the slaves. 

Six of them at the moment, but the ghosts of all the others were still in the house. Not because they’d died here, with the exception of Denny, but because they’d all left a mark on the house, a part of themselves behind. Their memories haunted the house.

Or perhaps they simply haunted Benedict. 

He couldn’t walk by the door to the kitchen without seeing Eddie leaning there, talking to the cooks, trying to flirt his way into some extra sweets. Every time he walked by the sitting room he heard Reg, brashly and loudly charging forward in Gronnde, unworried that he was pronouncing everything wrong. He couldn’t go into the garden without watching Jo picking flowers to put in his hair, and weave into the collar of his shirt.

Benedict couldn’t walk through the hallway on the second floor leading to the sun room without seeing Denny, leaning forward, knees off the floor as he hung lifeless from a lamp bracket. 

It had nearly destroyed Theodore, Denny’s suicide. It had exposed for him, for a moment, the hurt that he was causing the slaves—Benedict couldn’t think of them as boys, he couldn’t—and he’d almost stopped. He’d almost freed all of them at once. Benedict had been drafting papers for them. And then Theodore had changed his mind, somehow convinced himself that it had been a product of Denny’s own mental state, a disease of his thoughts that couldn’t be avoided. And he’d brought Hugh back into his bed.

One of Benedict’s greatest regrets was that he hadn’t, at that time, had the strength to tell Theodore that Felix and Penn and Jo had also all taken their lives, and that they’d just done it after Theodore had freed them. And that was only the three that he knew about. He didn’t manage to keep tabs on all of them. A good number of them followed in Ian’s footsteps and disappeared without at trace the moment they walked out of the house. 

And as much as it pained Benedict to watch Theodore do what he did to those slaves, it hurt him more to see Theodore heartbroken. He was well aware of what kind of person this made him. But all he could do was try, when an opportunity was there, to guide Theodore away from his more destructive habits. He’d manage it someday. He had to. He didn’t have much longer. 

A knock at the door in the middle of the night had Benedict crossing to the foyer, where even in the dim light he could still see Will sliding down the banister. “It’s a city guard, sir,” one of the house guards reported, when Benedict neared the door.

“Thank you,” said Benedict, pulling the door open with his heart in his throat. He could think of no good reason why a guard would be here this late at night. No good reason, but he could think of a reason, and that reason was named Daniel. 

The city guard was not a city guard but rather the captain of the city guard, an angular woman with dark complexion that many thought western in origin, but which Benedict was fairly certain placed at least some of her heritage in Enjon. Abagail Greentide strode inside, brushing snow from her shoulders. “I’m sorry to call so late. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You didn’t, Captain,” Benedict assured her, nodding his head. Daniel was not in the house tonight, for the third night in a row. He thought Benedict didn’t know, just like he’d thought Benedict wouldn’t notice his friend in the house. The slaves all thought they had secrets from Benedict. 

Benedict was not stupid. He knew there was a good possibility that Daniel and Ozzy were out there either killing someone or plotting to do so. Having them in the house should be enough to make him lose sleep, but it was Daniel’s absence that kept him awake. And awake he would remain until he was sure Daniel was back. 

“Good.” Greentide looked around, though what she hoped to see in the low light of one lamp Benedict didn’t know. “I know Theodore isn’t here, so I won’t waste any of your time. Do you have a way of getting in touch with him?”

“Of course,” Benedict said. She seemed agitated. “Is something the matter, Captain?” He sincerely, desperately hoped that Daniel hadn’t been arrested. If he’d been caught doing something against the law, he might be summarily killed. And that would destroy Theodore. He drew closer to destruction with every slave who left him, and the longer he spent with Daniel, the more Benedict was sure of that. Daniel was the last slave who was going to leave Theodore. Because Theodore was not going to survive Daniel leaving. 

“Yes,” Greentide said. She withdrew a letter from her coat. “I need you to get this to him as quickly as you can. It’s important.”

“Very well.” Benedict did not ask what it was about. He took the letter. “I shall send it in the morning.”

“Send it tonight.” 

Oh, dear. “May I ask what it is about, Captain?” Benedict normally wouldn’t. But if Daniel were in trouble, time could not be wasted sending letters. 

Greentide gave him a curious look. “That’s an awfully forward question for a butler. Don’t you types usually pretend indifference?”

Benedict gave a fraction of a smile. He enjoyed Abagail Greentide. She reminded him of someone he’d known before living with Theodore. “We do,” he assured her. “But if something is very wrong, there may be something I can do in his absence that will help.”

Greentide made a noise in her throat, then sighed. “Someone wants Theodore dead. Some information came to me that a contract’s been taken out with the Empty Moon. I feel he should know about it before he returns to the city.”

Benedict’s blood ran cold. “I see. I shall send the message at once, in that case.” At least Daniel wasn’t in danger, he told himself. At least this was a less immediate problem, one he could think about. 

“Thank you. I should go, before anyone realizes I’m here.” She smiled. “Can’t have anyone realizing that I’m too closely allied, after all.”

“Of course.” Benedict opened the door again. “Goodnight, Captain.”

She left, and Benedict took the letter not to the messengers, but to his room, scarcely noticing Vinnie at the wall opposite his door, humming as he waited for Benedict to give him something to do. He carefully unsealed the letter, read over the information inside. The information Greentide had seemed precise, and included the name of the person who’d taken out the contract. 

Benedict sat there in silence for well over an hour, considering. And then, when it was very late, he put on his coat and went outside, through the servants’ door that wasn’t properly guarded. Cold but not feeling it, he circled the house, keeping his footprints in the snow away from the path that he knew Daniel would take to return to the house. And he stood between some trees, where Jeremiah had liked to hide, waiting. 

The winter air bit at him, numbed his hands, but Benedict had been cold inside since he’d heard the captain’s warning. He was northern born and bred, a chill wasn’t going to hurt him. He stood there in the dark, waiting, for a long time. Finally, he heard footsteps, soft in the snow. “You feel like you’re ready?”

“Yeah.” That was Daniel. “I think so. It should be pretty straightforward.”

Ozzy let out a laugh as they came into view, the moonlight bright enough for Benedict to see them. He put an arm around Daniel, knocking him to the side as they crossed through the path of Bert, kicking up dirt as he practiced to become a knight. “Nothing’s straightforward. But I think you can do it.”

“You think?” Daniel asked, possibly smiling in the night. “That’s reassuring.”

“What can I say? I’m here to bolster you.” Ozzy sneezed. “Hey, I’ll meet you inside. I’m going to pee.”

“There’s a privy in the bedroom.”

“I know, it’s more fun to pee on a tree.”

Daniel snorted, looking his age as he occasionally did when he thought nobody could see him. “Fine, but I’m not warming your parts up later.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Ozzy said, pushing Daniel towards the house and wandering over to the trees. He kept an eye on Daniel as Daniel went inside, unlacing his pants and beginning to urinate against the tree next to Benedict. “If I hadn’t started being noisy he’d have noticed you.”

Benedict nodded, though Ozzy shouldn’t be able to see him. “I have a request.”

“I’m not leaving,” Ozzy said, looking at the tree. “I’m not. You can’t make me.” He was very young. Younger even than Benedict had been when Theodore had bought him.

“I am aware.” Benedict didn’t want Ozzy to leave, in fact. It was good to have him in the house. A boy who knew how to be a boy instead of a slave. “I wish to hire you.”

Ozzy snorted, finished up, doing up his pants. He moved around the tree and leaned against it, not looking at Benedict. “You can’t afford me.”

“You would be surprised. I am employed by a generous man and have few personal expenses.” This would be a strain on Benedict’s finances, but he would manage. He had many years of savings. 

“If you say so,” Ozzy said. “This isn’t how it works. You don’t just come up to me and name someone. There’s a process, it has to go through guild leadership.” A cloud of warm air escaped his mouth. “But tell me who you want dead and when, and I’ll do the paperwork for you. As a favour to thank you for not kicking me out.”

Benedict had hoped for such pragmatism. “Emma Skyhan. In the next few days.” 

For the first time, Ozzy looked right at him, eyes piercing the dark. “Just so there’s no room for error, you’re asking me to kill the noble lady who owns all the land around Merket and arbitrates its resources on behalf of the Dolovin crown, and you want it done this week.” 

“That’s correct,” Benedict said. He did appreciate the precision, he had to admit. A boy he may be, but Ozzy was a professional. 

“That’s really going to cost you.”

“Yes, I am aware. It is very important, and given the look in your eye, I suspect you know why.”

Ozzy shook his head, looking back at the ground. “Never tell an assassin you know what he’s thinking. We traffic in being stoic.”

“I’ve never met a boy yet who could fool me, Ozzy,” Benedict assured him. 

“Right.” Ozzy kicked some snow. “I’ll bring it to the guild.”

As Benedict had known he would. “Thank you.” 

“You know, one of my friends is going to die over this,” Ozzy said, turning. “Our contracts aren’t public for a reason. The fact that you found out about this so quickly means someone intentionally leaked it. Someone’s going to die over it.”

“Yes,” Benedict said, watching Ozzy’s back, the way he held his shoulders. “I’m aware.” 

Ozzy just nodded, and began to walk away.

“But then,” said Benedict. “You knew that when you leaked the information to the captain, didn’t you?” 

Ozzy stopped. Something about him shrunk, just a little bit. He turned around, eyes wide in the moonlight. He swallowed. “It would…it would destroy Daniel.” His voice was so small, so quiet. 

“I know. Please don’t feel as though you must hide in the bedroom. I know you’re there. You may come down to the kitchen and eat breakfast with the others in the mornings.” The person who suffered those consequences, Benedict thought, had better not be Ozzy himself. Daniel simply wasn’t worth throwing his own life away for. He would leave as soon as he could. That was what he was like. That was what Ian had been like too. And no matter how much he desperately wanted to tell Ozzy that, he knew Ozzy wouldn’t listen, anymore than Theodore would. 

“Thank you,” Ozzy whispered.

Benedict nodded. “And please…protect him. If something were to happen, it would destroy Theodore.”

“I know,” Ozzy said, heading for the house, hands in his pockets. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

And Benedict was left alone in the cold. He waited several minutes before retracing his steps back to the house. Inside the door was Harper, bouncing a ball on his knee. Benedict returned to his room, where he lit a small fire before undressing for bed, and burned Greentide’s letter in it.  
Benedict harboured no romantic delusions about Theodore. He did not think that Theodore would ever recover the love that he’d once had for a slave named Benny. That didn’t matter. All he wanted was to keep Theodore alive and as healthy as he could be.

He would tell Theodore about the rumours of a plot once he’d returned. With Lady Skyhan dead, there would be nobody to pay out the contract and it would be cancelled. And one of the people preventing Theodore from doing the work he wanted to do in the city would be removed from the scene. 

Theodore didn’t need to know what Benedict’s role in bring all that about had been. It didn’t matter. All Benedict needed was Theodore to be healthy. And if a few people Benedict didn’t know had to die for that to happen, then so be it. 

He was well aware of what kind of person this made him. Of what kind of person he was. Benedict didn’t care. He had, long ago, been given a choice, given the freedom to choose what to do with his life. He’d never regretted it, not once.

This was his life. And Benedict was not going to let it be taken away from him.


	4. It's One Thing to Talk About Enforcing the Law, and Another Thing Entirely to Actually Do it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so this chapter, for anyone who doesn't know who Leo is, is about a side character from Knighthood, which is my 'teenagers being institutionally sexually abused and also there's incest' story. This chapter features no incest since Leo doesn't roll like that, but does feature that other thing, and also some non-graphic stuff pertaining to suicide and self-harm as well, just so everyone is warned going in. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Wyatt always fucked Leo like it was his first time, fast and hard without rhythm at all, like a kid who’d realized that this felt good but hadn’t yet figured out that it could feel better if he put a little bit of thought into it. 

It was always kind of like Leo’s first time with his neighbour when he’d been a kid, actually. But at least it had been Rory’s first time too. Wyatt was a grown man who’d been fucking people since he was younger than Leo, and even if he hadn’t been, he’d been fucking Leo for several months now. It would be nice if he’d learn how to do it properly. 

He also never jerked Leo off or tried to hit his prostate, leaving Leo to worry about getting off himself. At the present moment that wasn’t bothering him, because there was a cold wind blowing and his hand on his dick was the only thing that stopped it from freezing. His pants were around his ankles and Wyatt had him up against an alley wall as he fucked him, hands on Leo’s hips, gripping hard. 

Leo jerked himself off fast, because once Wyatt came they were done, heading back to duty. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fucked Leo in an alley and then made him patrol for another two hours with cum in his ass and a boner in his smallclothes. In fact, it was a frequent enough occurrence that Leo was surprised nobody knew it was happening. Wyatt always seemed to get bored in the middle of patrol and want to fuck Leo instead of just waiting until they were off duty. It didn’t seem to Leo to be in keeping with the chivalric code, but…

Leo came with a grunt, squirting three shots of cum against the alley wall, which dribbled partway down, already freezing against the icy brick. Winter was really not the best time for fucking outside, he thought idly, clenching around Wyatt and waiting for him to finish. 

Just over a minute later he did, slamming into Leo with a muffled yell, cumming inside him in hard bursts. He pulled out when he’d barely finished, wiping his cock on Leo’s left asscheek and slapping his right one. “All right,” he said, stepping back to do up his own pants. “Back to work.”

Hiding his flinch at the slap, Leo nodded, bending over to pull his own pants up, taking a little longer than Wyatt since Wyatt just had to do up some laces. Now he was cold all down his legs and his pants and smallclothes had snow in them, which meant it would be ages before he warmed up again. Wyatt didn’t care about that. 

It wasn’t that Wyatt was a bad guy, and Leo had been the one who’d spend the first several months of his squirehood wanting a knight who’d fuck him in accordance with tradition. Old Sir Dalton had never done it, had thought it was distasteful and never touched Leo. Leo had hated that. 

But now he was dead and Leo missed him. Wyatt wasn’t a bad guy, and he was doing a good job training Leo, but when it came to sex he treated Leo like he was just something to put his cock in instead of a person, and Leo had realized pretty rapidly after getting assigned to Wyatt that he didn’t like that. It wasn’t like he only wanted to fuck someone he loved or something, but he did like it better when the person he was with liked him, or at least cared that he was there. 

Oh well, it wasn’t like it was horrible or anything. Leo followed Wyatt out of the alley, still lacing up his pants. A few people saw him, but whatever. It wasn’t like Leo was afraid of people knowing that he liked sex. Nobody here was going to smack him for behaving inappropriately with the neighbour. 

It was a cold, crappy day out and most people were just in a hurry to do whatever they were out to do and then go home. Leo couldn’t even blame Wyatt for wanting to stop halfway through patrol for a warmup fuck. It might have been the only thing that kept them from freezing to death. 

He pulled his glove out of his pocket and put it on as he wove through the crowd to catch up with Wyatt, clenching to prevent cum from running down his leg. He kept his eye on people as he walked. This kind of weather was perfect for cutpurses, because nobody was paying attention. “Did the city guard ever catch that rapist?” he asked Wyatt as they walked towards the Royal Promenade from the side road they were on. He’d been reminded of it because one of the rapes had happened in this area. Three women and two men claimed to have been violated by a guy in red facepaint, who’d dedicated the crime to the Leader. 

Wyatt nodded. “Yeah, they did. They caught him in the act of raping a girl somewhere on Worker’s Hill. Turned out to be the first victim’s brother.” 

“That’s…” Leo took a breath of cold air. “That’s really fucked up.” 

“Yeah. What I heard was that he did it, then did all the others to make it seem like it was random, basically.” 

“God,” Leo said, still looking out. “Imagine doing that to your own sister.”

“Don’t have a sister.” 

“Me either. I’m just saying, it’s fucked up.” Rape was bad enough, but to someone who trusted and loved you like that? Leo didn’t get it. He didn’t get wanting to hurt a family member. Somebody you were supposed to love. 

Wyatt nodded. “I mean, I wouldn’t have done it. But I’m also not a rapist. They’re built wrong or something.” 

Leo nodded. They came out on the Royal Promenade, but crossed it, heading west towards Worker’s Hill. “Do they still castrate rapists?” He’d read that in a book once in the library in Pelican Bay. He’d read a lot about crime and punishment as a kid. He’d liked knowing what you could be hauled off by the guard for. 

“Nah,” Wyatt said, giving the eye to a kid who looked like he was watching them a little too closely. The kid scurried off. “They just hang them.” 

“More than they deserve,” Leo muttered.

“I’m curious now,” Wyatt said. He pulled Leo away from a horse as they left the Royal Promenade. “You don’t think I’m a rapist, right?”

Leo frowned. “No. Unless you’re doing something when I’m not around.” 

“What I mean is that when I was a squire I sure had moments when I thought that about Sir David,” Wyatt explained. “At first, anyway.”

“Oh.” Leo knew that. He knew people said stuff like that. “That’s, whatever. It’s part of your job as a squire. It’s not you’re breaking into my house and…” he sighed. This was one of those things he felt like he should feel strongly about, but when he tried to, he only ended up being able to poke around the edges of it before it started to bother him too much. The whole thing was what his mother would call inappropriate behaviour, but Leo wasn’t his mother. “Look, if I really didn’t want you to fuck me I’d go and ask the knight commander to assign me to someone else, wouldn’t I? Sir Dalton can’t have been the only knight in the world who didn’t like to fuck.” 

Leo really wished Dalton were still alive. He wished he’d been there when he’d died. He wished he’d helped, instead of being so far way that he may as well have not existed. He’d become a knight to be useful to people, and when it had mattered, he’d been fucking around in a tavern. He hated himself for that. 

Wyatt snorted. “No, he wasn’t. Good to know I’m not secretly destroying your life or something.” 

“As if you could,” Leo said, earning a shove. If they weren’t fucking, he’d think of Wyatt more as an older brother than anything. He felt like they were friends, anyway. “Hey look, that guy’s about to get robbed.” 

There was in fact a guy about to get robbed. He was about the same age as Wyatt, wearing a long coat that was just a little bit too nice for this part of town, and had a girl walking up behind him casually, for all the world like she wasn’t about to slip her hand in his pocket. 

“So he is,” Wyatt said, nudging Leo that way. “Do the honourable thing, will you?” 

Leo headed over there to break it up, getting to them just as the girl reached out for the guy’s pocket. He grabbed her wrist. “Hey there,” he said, holding tight when she jumped back. “Stealing is wrong.” 

“Fuck you,” the girl growled, a knife flashing. Leo moved back, and…

And didn’t have to, the girl’s arm frozen. Her mark had a hand up, and was blinking, surprised. “Stabbing people is also wrong.”

The girl struggled, and Leo let her go. She ran off, scurrying into an alley. She’d rob someone else, but Leo wasn’t about to put a street thief in prison for trying to survive. Which Wyatt would lecture him about later, no doubt. He was already giving Leo a look. “You’re a mage,” Leo said to the mage, feeling dumb and useless. This guy hadn’t needed his help. 

“Yeah. Thank you for your help. I think we’ve met before, haven’t we?” the mage asked, looking at Leo closely.

They had, Leo realized. He hadn’t been all bundled up in a hat and scarf then, but Leo recognized him. “You’re Isaac’s friend,” he said, nodding. “I was the one who was there when you were with that guy who was all…”

“Oh, right, right,” the mage said, nodding now. “That’s where I’ve seen you. Thanks for your help that day too. I’m Oliver.” 

“Leo, uh, and this is Sir Wyatt.” 

Oliver nodded at them both, smiling. “Thanks for everything you do.” 

“Our pleasure,” Wyatt said. “Leo and I should get going before someone else gets robbed by that thief he let escape, though.” 

Leo rolled his eyes where only Oliver could see. “It was nice to see you. Tell Isaac I said hi.” 

“Yeah.” Oliver’s face visibly fell at that. “I will.” 

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked. He looked sad, suddenly. Way too sad. Something had happened. 

“Nothing, uh…” Oliver shrugged. “Isaac’s sick.”

“Sick?” That word turned Leo’s gut. That’s what they’d said about his dad too. He’d died two days later, screaming in pain. 

“Yeah.” Oliver’s expression was dark. “He’ll…be okay in a few days.” 

Oliver didn’t really believe that. He was saying it to convince himself. His face was the same one Leo’s mom had used to have when she called him her son. “Okay,” Leo said, trying not to shrink back. “Well, tell him I’m thinking about him, then. Praying for him, even, if he cares about that.” Leo would pray for him. Including Isaac on the list of people he prayed for wouldn’t be that hard.

Oliver nodded. He still looked upset. “I’ll tell him. Nice to see you, and…thanks again for the help.” 

He started to hurry off. “That was…” Wyatt began, but he was cut off. A scream filled the street, hard and high. He and Leo looked at each other and hurried towards it, and Leo realized only a few seconds later that Oliver was following them. He must have figured he could help.

They rounded a corner and saw the source of the scream. A young woman with a small child, who she was pulling away from an armoured guy with a sword. The sword was covered in blood, and so was the guy’s armour, his face. He was staggering forward as if drunk. “Fuck,” Wyatt said, and he and Leo got in front of the woman. “Drop the sword now.” 

“I…I couldn’t…I had to…”

Leo recognized that voice, and he forced himself to look past the blood—there was so much blood—to see his friend. “Rudy?” That was Rudy under all that. What was he doing here. What the fuck was…

And whose blood was he splattered with? 

“Are you sure?” Wyatt asked, looking closer. Rudy stumbled another step closer.

Leo nodded. He put his sword away. “Rudy,” he said, stepping closer. “Rudy, it’s me, it’s Leo.” 

Rudy seemed to find some clarity, eyes focusing on Leo. “Leo?” he asked, stepping forward. He still had his sword out, within striking distance now. Leo’s heart was pounding. Rudy wouldn’t hurt him. “Leo, I…I couldn’t do it anymore. I can’t do it anymore. I had to, had to stop him. I’m…oh, God. I’m so sorry. I…”

“Rudy, it’s okay,” Leo said, while Wyatt moved around the side. He took a step closer. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” 

“No I’m not,” Rudy whispered. “I’m…I’m broken, and, used and dirty and just, I’m just, I’m just meat, I’m just food, I’m just…” he raised his sword, angling it not at Leo but inwards, hand flying down. 

“No!” Leo leapt, tackling Rudy to the ground. He seemed to freeze and as Leo moved towards him he remembered Oliver. He probably hadn’t had to do this, but Rudy was his friend and he..

They collided, Leo landing on top of Rudy, metal clanging. That woman had run away with her son, so the shouting had stopped. Rudy wrestled with Leo. “Get…let me…Leo, please…”

“No, Rudy,” Leo said, feeling himself tearing up. He’d just seen Rudy last night. He’d seemed a little down, but not suicidal. How had he not noticed this? “I’m not.” 

Wyatt was there, kicking Rudy’s sword out of his hand and helping Leo pin him. “Get off,” he said. Leo sat up, and Wyatt pulled Rudy to his feet, hands behind his back. That blood was smeared all over Leo now too. Rudy had given up, slumping. He was crying. Leo looked at Wyatt, who looked back. He looked scared. “I’ll hold him. I need you to go check the alley he came from. See if…anyone needs help.”

_See who he killed._ Wyatt may as well have just said it. 

Leo nodded gravely, and headed for the alley. Oliver followed him. “You shouldn’t,” Leo said.

“If they’re…still alive, I can heal them.” 

“They’re not still alive,” Leo said, shaking his head. “Not with that much blood.” He’d never seen that much blood, except for when he’d come back to the fortress after the attack. Even when his dad had died there’d only been a little bit of blood. 

But he let Oliver follow him into the alley, where, sitting against the wall, blood all down his front, was Sir Howard. He was staring at the opposite wall. He had a huge gash in his neck. Rudy must have tried to take his head off. “God…” Oliver said, sounding faint. 

That was also how Leo felt, and he turned, shaking his head at Wyatt. “We need to call the city guard. And the knight commander, I guess.” He was going to have to be notified of a knight committing a murder—especially against another knight. They’d hang Rudy for this. Leo’s friend was going to die for this. 

“And the archmage,” Oliver whispered, bumping into Leo as he stepped back. “The academy needs to be told.” 

“Why would…” Leo turned around, and he saw what Oliver meant. 

Howard’s body hadn’t moved, but from the huge gash in his neck, amidst the blood and bone and muscle, crawling out was a long, writhing red centipede.


	5. Through Thick and Thin, Castle Servants Are Better off Sticking Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on updating this anthology again so soon, but after what happened in Villain and Rebels, I really wanted this POV to enter into the mess. Enjoy! :)

Careful not to cut his bare feet on shards of anything, Todd picked his way over the rubble that was strewn everywhere. He was probably going to be the one to have to clean all this up, but for now he just wanted to get to his room. Derek’s room. Their room. He just wanted to see if Derek was there.

Todd wasn’t stupid enough to assume that half the castle falling down would have killed the king or even Henry, so there was no point in getting excited about that. But maybe something had happened to Derek. Derek had known it was all going to happen, so it was probably his fault, but that didn’t mean it can’t have gone badly for him. Maybe the king had caught him and killed him, or a rock had fallen on his head or…

Todd’s heart was racing at the possibility, leaving him feeling sick. He should be excited, but the idea that Derek might have been hurt was…frightening to him. 

It was just because for all that Derek was the worst person in the world, without him they might just decide to kill Todd. Derek was the only person who didn’t hate Todd. And he didn’t want to die. That was all. 

So when he got back to his room and Derek wasn’t there, Todd didn’t know what to do. The castle was so big and Derek worked all over it, and if something _had_ happened to him there was no way for Todd to find out, nobody would talk to him or tell him anything even if he asked, nobody cared about him or…

He didn’t realize how long he’d been standing there until the door opened behind him and Todd jumped, spinning to see Derek coming in the room. Relief coursed through him when it should have been frustration. _Of course_ Derek was fine. 

Or maybe not totally fine. He had blood around both ears and he looked really tired. He smiled when he saw Todd, but not as stupidly as he normally did. “Hi, Todd. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Todd looked at the floor. “Thank you for worrying. I’m glad you’re okay too.” It paid to be nice to Derek. That was what he liked.

“Were you afraid?” Derek asked, shutting the door behind him. “During the attack? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going to happen.”

_But you would have done something stupid._ It lingered in the air, unspoken. Everyone thought Todd was stupid, even Derek, even if he never said it. Todd was starting to realize they were right. 

Todd nodded. “I was, a little.” Derek smiled and looked away. “W-were you?” Of course Derek hadn’t been. Derek was a freak who wasn’t afraid of anything. 

“Yeah,” Derek said softly, something strange on his face. “I was.” His voice wavered a little. That was weird. “Get me some water, please?” 

Todd started to nod, to turn around. The king’s voice echoed in his head. _Will you stand the fuck up to him for once? It’s what he wants you to do._

The king was a liar and he liked knowing that Todd had gotten hurt. He’d probably said that so Todd would do something stupid. But on the other hand…Derek always said he didn’t like bossing people around. Was Derek really just waiting for Todd to grow a spine? 

Derek sounded funny. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well. Punishing Todd for something might make him feel better. “Get it yourself.” 

Derek turned to him, and Todd started shaking as soon as he was in Derek’s line of sight. Shit, that had been a stupid idea. Why had he done that, why was he so stupid, he should just apologize now and hopefully Derek would forget it had ever…

“Okay,” Derek whispered, nodding. His smile seemed to quiver. “Sorry, you’re probably tired. You should lay down and I’ll…”

“What’s wrong?” Todd asked, knowing he shouldn’t interrupt. This wasn’t what Derek was normally like. Even when he was mad, he was normally cheerful and bubbly. Even when he was tired, he never seemed so out of it like this. “S-something’s bothering you.”

Derek shook his head. “It’s nothing, Todd. Don’t worry about it.”

“Derek,” Todd said, moving closer. “It’s, it’s only me here.” It wasn’t like Todd had any power to use anything he learned about Derek, not anymore. 

Derek blinked, wavering in place. “I…” he trailed off. He took a deep breath. “I just really need a hug,” he said, voice so quiet Todd barely heard him.

So Todd hugged him. He didn’t even think about it, didn’t even reflect that hugs were stupid and only babies wanted them. He just put his arms around Derek and held him. Derek hugged back immediately, resting his head on Todd’s shoulder, holding him there tightly. 

They just stood there holding each other for a full minute, Derek taking deep, bracing breaths. “What’s wrong?” Todd asked again.

“Just…it was a really hard day,” Derek sniffed. “They’re all hard, but this one was…I shouldn’t even be complaining. Yours are so much harder.” He hugged Todd even tighter.

“It’s fine,” Todd whispered. “I deserve it.” He knew he did. He was a worthless, shitty excuse for a person. 

Derek just shook his head, didn’t say anything else. They held each other for a long time, just holding each other up. 

“I know you won’t believe me,” Derek said after a while. “But I do actually like you, Todd.” 

Of course he did. Derek liked everyone. Todd wasn’t special. But hearing it still made his guts flip over, a stupid, happy feeling that he couldn’t control. “I…you won’t believe me either, but I like you too.”

Derek pulled back from the hug, eyes shining like he might cry, but no tears had fallen. He was smiling again, more like he normally did. “Thank you. I, um, know you were only trying to protect me. Those first few weeks, I mean.”

Todd felt shame boil through him as he remembered those weeks. He’d hated Derek then, for no reason other than because he was friendly when the world wasn’t. “I was trying to hurt you.”

“Sometimes it’s the same thing.” Derek said, voice clearer now.

Todd felt off-balance suddenly. “I…I know you’re protecting me too.” He did know that. Deep down, he knew that. He’d never admitted it out loud before, because it was easier not to. But he knew it. Derek was the only person in the castle who didn’t hate him.

Derek nodded, taking one last breath. He smiled. “Thank you, Todd. I feel much better now. I’m going to get that water.”

“I can get it for you.”

“It’s okay,” Derek said, hand on his arm. “I’ll do it.”

While he poured the water—two cups—Todd watched him. “Is there…is there anything I can do? To help you?”

Derek handed him a cup, which Todd spilled a little. He’d gotten so used to drinking from a bowl on the floor. “That’s really nice of you to ask.”

“I mean it,” Todd said, spilling more water as he tried to drink. He wanted to help Derek. He wanted to take this new feeling that he and Derek didn’t have to be…didn’t have to hurt each other. 

They did have to hurt each other. That was what the king expected from them. But when nobody could see, maybe they could be friends. That was what Todd should have tried to be from the start, instead of hurting Derek. 

“Well…” Derek downed his water, put the cup back. He pulled a small key from his pocket. It was the key for the metal cage on Todd’s dick. He barely thought about it anymore. “You can say no. But if you want to, could you maybe…do like you did the first time? When you were trying to help?”

When Todd had raped Derek. His gut clenched as Derek unlocked the cage, pulled it off. He’d said he wanted to help. This was what Derek wanted. Hand shaking, he took Derek’s wrist.

_Stand up to him._ Was this really what Derek needed, though? Todd let go. “No,” he said. 

Derek nodded, looking a bit sad. “Okay. It was just an idea. Sorry…”

Todd shook his head, hands on Derek’s shoulders. “I’ll…I’ll do it the way I should have, instead. The way that…your first time should have been.” The way that both of their first times should have been. “I’ll do it nice, and, and gentle and the way you deserve, and…”

Derek kissed him, looking Todd in the eye. “I’d like that.” 

Todd had had a lot of sex over the last year. That night was the first time he’d ever been with someone who wanted it just as much, and in the same way, as he did. And that was a feeling Todd was never going to forget.


End file.
